Figuring out – IceMav
by Mrs. Anderton
Summary: After the successful mission following their graduation from Top Gun, Maverick & Iceman have a few days on the aircraft carrier to "figure things out".
1. Prologue

"You!" Iceman shouted at Maverick. The shorter pilot took off his aviators, frowning at Ice. "You are still dangerous. But you can be my wingman anytime."

"Bullshit! You can be mine."

They threw their arms around each other and hugged, tight. Maverick's heart beat a little too hard at first. It was like slow-motion, like they'd never let go. When they did, they made eye-contact just an instant more than they should've. Maverick didn't have time to be disrupted; he was already being dragged away by the crowd of pilots and technicians, congratulating him for his flying and fighting, for saving the day. There'd be a few days to figure it out, anyway. To figure everything out. A few more days on this aircraft carrier before they all set off in different directions. A few more days with Iceman.

Yeah, there were definitely things that needed to be figured out.


	2. Part 1

That evening, halfway through the celebration, Maverick extricated himself from a drunk Hollywood's embrace and sneaked off to the lower deck. He needed some fresh air. He stood there, head to the wind, closed his eyes, and let his thoughts overwhelm him. He had made it without Goose today… for the first time since his best friend died, he had flown as himself, as the real Maverick. But he couldn't shake off the thought that somehow, Goose had helped him today. When he had asked for it. "Talk to me, Goose". It wasn't just his own mind, he didn't have that strength… or did he?

Viper's voice echoed in his head. "You've got to let him go". In a way, yes, he did have to let him go. Goose would always be with him, no matter what, but he didn't need any physical remainder anymore. Goose would always be in his mind.

He drew his R.I.O's dog tags out of his pocket and looked at them for the last time before giving them for the fleeing sea to keep.

"Mitchell…"

Maverick jumped. He was sure he was alone. He wondered since when Ice was there.

"I…" the blond pilot hesitated. It seemed to Maverick that he was a bit tipsy. "Have you _let him go_…" (he pronounced the three words with obvious scepticism) "yet?"

Maverick shook his head. "No. Of course not. I'll never… I don't think I'll ever be able to."

"Yeah…"

It was clear that he wanted to say more. Way more.

"I admired you today, Mitchell. When you re-engaged, saved our ass. It was brave. I know it must've been tough."

Suddenly, Maverick felt the urge to tell him everything. How he'd asked Goose for help and how he was sure it had worked somehow. But it was stupid.

"Thanks" was the only word he managed to get out. He felt dumb.

Iceman uncomfortably shifted his weight. He opened his mouth, then closed it. He looked at the sea. Frowned. Maverick thought he knew what he wanted to say, but couldn't. He knew it because he felt the same. And he couldn't figure out how to say it, either. Wondered if there was any good way to say it.

He found himself walking the few feet that separated him from Iceman and hugging him. A softer hug than on the tarmac, when they were both still filled with adrenaline. This one was… tender. And there was no crowd around them, no overexcited people pushing them in different directions. They were alone under the sunset sky, with the surprisingly warm wind whistling against the walls of the carrier, and the sea caressing its side. Maverick felt protected, secure. A genuine, unthought-of "thank you" issued from his lips.

As they let go of each other, Ice briefly brushed Maverick's hair with his hand. They looked at each other for a second, during which Maverick thought Ice's eyes were slightly watery; but he didn't have time to be certain of that. Ice looked away. A stronger wave hit the side of the carrier. The taller pilot took a deep breath, and said "I'm here if you need me". His jaw tightened for a second as he was shaking off a thought. He glanced at Maverick one last time before walking away.


	3. Part 2

It was dark outside when Maverick departed the cafeteria, where a few drunken people where still celebrating, singing senseless songs and promising endless love to the exhausted bartender. He himself was pretty drunk. After Iceman had left him on the deck, he'd gone back to the celebrations, and the tall blond guy was nowhere to be seen.

He'd pretended to laugh at Viper's heavy jokes, accepted a drink from a happy Sundown who'd taken him by the shoulder and loudly apologized for "being such a dick the other day". He'd accepted drinks from Stinger, Wolfman, Merlin, even Slider. He'd accepted drinks from everyone. Anything to distract him from his impossible thoughts.

But as he moved away from the cafeteria, his thoughts weren't so disturbing anymore. They were forming a sort of fog in his head, a haziness that felt good. He felt light. The vapours of beer and whatever he'd been drinking – he couldn't remember, but did it matter? – seemed to spread an opportune airiness around his brain. Did he even notice when, instead of turning left on the path to his cabin, he continued straight and then turned right? Did he even think before opening the door of cabin 14, instead of 32? It was all so natural. After all, he'd said he was there for him.

"Who's that?" mumbled Ice's sleepy voice in the dark.

"'tis me, I guess", replied Mav, taking off his shoes, concentrating very hard not to collapse while on one foot.

"Maverick?"

"Yeah, I s'pose".

"You suppose…" Ice yawned. "Drunk, are you."

"I guess."

"Quite a lot, it seems. And…" he paused. "what do you think you're doing here?"

"Wanmetoleave", muttered Maverick, fumbling in the dark.

"No… no, you can stay."

"Th…thanks."

"Here, follow my voice… or try to…"

Maverick finally found the bed and clumsily slipped himself into it. Iceman tried to make some space for him, but there wasn't much. Maverick didn't seem to want some anyway. He cuddled against Ice's torso and stood still. Quite surprised first, Ice told himself that there wasn't much to be understood – he was fucking drunk. He put the blanket over them and passed an arm around him.

"Feeling okay?" he asked.

"I s'pose."

"You don't _know_ many things tonight, Mitchell, do you…"

But he had already fallen asleep.

As for Iceman, as hard as he tried, he couldn't fall back asleep. He couldn't just ignore the feeling of Maverick cuddled tight against him, or the fact that his lips were only a few inches away from his'. A few times, he got closer until he almost touched them, and drew back slowly, afraid that he might wake up. After a few hours, tired of having to hold his legs straight because Maverick's were folded, he slid one of his between Mav's, really slowly, watching his every breath, making sure that they didn't change rhythm or volume.

A few times, the hand behind Maverick's back came brushing his neck and the base of his hair.

Sometimes, Maverick shifted in his sleep, pressing harder against Ice, clenching his fists against his torso. Ice gulped uneasily – he silently cursed Maverick for being there, not even being conscious that he was torturing him, or how much he was torturing him. He was asleep, sleeping a drunk man's sleep… easy, with no concerns. But what would happen when they'd wake up? Probably Mav wouldn't even be sober then… but at some point, he'd have to realize.

Iceman wasn't sure whether Maverick felt the same way as he did. But the way he had hugged him on the deck… and the way he had came tonight. He knew that Maverick hadn't got any problem with being with men. At least that's what he'd heard. He hoped it could be as easy for him… he'd been close to men before, but always got scared at some point. Only, this time, he knew there'd be no such easy escape as getting scared. What he felt for Maverick was too strong.

He got lost in his thoughts, and never fell asleep. He listened to the distant waves, muffled by layers and layers of metal. He heard people walking in the corridors above, people talking a few cabins away. He assumed it was around 0600. They didn't have to get up early, they were allowed a day of rest.


	4. Part 3

About an hour later, Maverick started stirring in his sleep. Moaning. Yawning. Petrified, Ice watched him wake up slowly, try to stretch his legs, frown when he realized they were entangled with Ice's; look up at him, his eyes heavy, taking time to focus. Ice saw his attempts to remember what happened.

"Hey", he said to Maverick.

"'s this your cabin?"

"Yeah…"

"I came here?"

"Yeah."

Maverick frowned more and mumbled: "Probablyshouldnvetoldmeyouwe rethereforme." He disentangled himself from Ice, who took a few seconds to understand what Mav had just said.

"Hey, it's okay", he reassured him.

"Is it…" Maverick turned his back to him, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Yeah… you were drunk… and you needed someone… I get it."

Maverick shook his head. He remained silent for a while.

"It's just… it's weird."

"What's weird, Mitchell?" He had to hold back a smirk. This was ironic as fuck.

"Well…" Maverick hesitated, still turning his back on Iceman. "two days ago… we… we hated each other and now I'm sleeping in your bed." He said the last part very quickly, only breathing afterwards.

"I never hated you, Mitchell." He paused, shook his head. "You were – you were a real pain in the ass, true. But even that, I started… getting over it after… that day."

Maverick's hungover features contracted slightly. That day... or a few days after, in the locker room, when Ice had told him that he was sorry about Goose. It had surprised him a lot. It had made him think. Because there was so much left unsaid in that locker room already, he'd felt it. That Ice wasn't saying the first tenth of what he thought. He'd never hated Iceman, either. Since the first day at Top Gun, in the classroom, or during their first face-to-face encounter in the bar – there was tension. But it was far from hate.

Maverick turned around to look at Iceman, still laying on the bed.

"Then what was it?"

He wanted to bring Iceman to say it, whatever it was. However, he seemed quite startled. His cheeks flushed imperceptibly. Obviously, he wasn't prepared for such a question. He didn't want to answer it. Maverick wondered if he'd even dared answering that question to himself.

"What was it to you, Mitchell?"

"Tension." The answer came out naturally.

Ice made an approving pout. "Tension, huh."

Maverick shrugged. "Let's settle for that and go to breakfast." He prepared to sit up, but Ice's strong hand closed around his forearm. He turned around again. "What?"

"_Settle for that_…", Ice winced. "You're not satisfied with that, Mitchell, are you."

"Well, are _you_, Kasansky?"

Ice grimaced. It had always turned him on when Maverick had called him by his last name.

"You're the one in my bed."

"You're the one letting me in your bed."

"What choice did I have? You were drunk as fuck."

"Sure." Maverick took a mocking superior tone and mimicked quoting. "When a drunk officer shows up in your cabin at night, you have the obligation, as a member of the United States Navy, to let him in your bed."

"So what? What if it didn't bother me, Mitchell?"

Maverick's voice sounded more aggressive than he'd meant it to be. "You'll never accept it, will you, Kasansky?"

There was a silence. Iceman played with his sheets, shaking his head, obviously thinking very hard.

"It's no big deal for you, is it?", he ended up saying. "You've been there before. You're free as fuck. It's easy."

Maverick shook his head, an expression of exhaustion on his face. "Easy." He sighed. "You're a coward, you know that. You're afraid of yourself. That's called being a coward."

"And you're a shithead."

"Sure am." There was a silence again. Ice was avoiding Maverick's eyes. "Alright. You may not want to say it. But you have to accept it and I think that maybe you already have. Just… don't move."

Still sitting on the edge of the bed, he placed his hands on both sides of Ice's body. Slowly, he leaned forward, watching him closely; he leaned closer and closer, until their lips connected. Maverick kissed him gently, and pulled back.

"This is not 'bothering you' either, is it, Kasansky."

"Shut up, Mitchell."

His hand grabbed Maverick's neck and pulled his face to his. He kissed the dark-haired pilot this time. A long, deep kiss that meant everything he couldn't bring himself to say.


	5. Epilogue

"They gave you your choice of duty, son. Anything, anywhere. Do you believe this shit? Where do you think you wanna go?"

"I thought of being an instructor, sir."

"Top Gun?"

"Yes, sir."

"God help us."

Stinger left the room, a trail of heavy smoke following him. It seemed like it was the happiest day of his life. Maverick watched him go, his eyebrows raised.

"Impressive, Mitchell", said Ice, his head showing from behind a line of lockers. "_You_ thought of being an instructor." He nodded sarcastically. "Amazing he even believed that at all, since it's widely known that you don't _think_."

"Shut it, Ice", slammed Maverick. "Alright, it was your idea. I'm going to stay here at Top Gun, _teaching_" (he pronounced the word with faked disgust) "all for the sake of… what, your–"

"–my magnificent person", completed Ice as he drew closer.

"Yeah, something like that…"

"You do appreciate the fact that, thanks to my brilliant thinking, we're not going to get separated yet. Don't you, Mitchell?"

"I'm doing you a favour, Kasansky. You're in _need_ of me. You have something dangerous in your ice-cold life and you don't want to let it go."

Ice put his arms on both sides of Maverick, cornering him against his locker, and looked at him with a half-smile, chewing on his gum. Maverick withstood his look, magnificently still. Finally, Ice said: "Just dare telling me that, right now, you're not in need of me."

Maverick broke eye-contact, smiling, and shook his head. Ice drew closer, so that their breaths mingled. His half-smile slowly changed into a victory one. "Yeah… you can't say that."

He freed Maverick and took a few steps back, only to lean on the nearest locker with a falsely detached look. "So, what about Charlie?"

"Well, what about her?" he paused, looking at Iceman closely, and squinted at him, a mocking grin forming on his lips. "Wait… are you _jealous_?"

"Mitchell, you're giving yourself way too much credit", Ice replied, imperturbable.

"Charlie… is not here, as far as I know."

"You don't seem too concerned about it."

Maverick shrugged. "We had our fun, I'm not one to hold on to relationships when they don't hold by themselves anymore."

Iceman shook his head, looking at him with a smile that mixed mocking and an ounce of tenderness. "The need for speed, huh. Nothing, no one will ever change you. You're too fast."

"That may be true, you shithead." He drew closer to Ice, his head tilted to the side, the beginning of a smile lifting the right corner of his lips. "But, believe it or not…" He slid a hand behind the taller pilot's back. "I intend on making tonight real slow."


End file.
